Tier
by Hikaru Morinaga
Summary: Crawford thought he could control just about anyone, even Schuldig. But Crawford was in for a rude awakening and a lesson about how some wild animals just can't be tamed into submission. One shot.


**Tier**

Schuldig had come back with yet another girl at his heels. Crawford had known this would happen since this morning when he had a vision of red streaked with blue. Sure enough, the slut Schuldig brought home had a rather garish shade of blue hair--and it clashed horribly with his hair. She leaned heavily against him and Crawford did not appreciate the fact that she was practically feeling him up.

"Baby," she cooed, "I didn't know we were having...'company'."

_Oh, she thinks she's being cute by using 'company' instead of 'threesome'_. _Schuldig sure knows how to pick the idiotic ones._

Schuldig glanced at Crawford sitting in the living room. "We're not. He's just my flatmate--it'll just be you and me, _Liebes_."

Crawford rolled his eyes behind the book he was trying to read at the tittering laughter that followed. He had to resist the urge to rip her vocal cords out.

Fortunately for him, Schuldig was trying to not do the exact same thing.

-x-

"Well _you're_ cheerful this morning," Schuldig said sarcastically when he entered the kitchen. Wearing a loose sweatshirt and lounge pants--neither of which blended smoothly with his hair colouring--he padded over to the coffee maker. He could tell from Crawford's scowl that the seer was in a less than cheery mood. You didn't have to be a telepath to sense it.

"Where's your...lady friend?"

Schuldig scoffed as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "She left before you got up. I got bored of her pretty quick, so I sent her packing before midnight." He sat down in the chair across from Crawford nonchalantly, as if this were normal conversation, and lit a cigarette.

"I don't want you bringing any more women home."

Schuldig smirked around his cigarette as he rested his head in his palm. "No worries--I'll just bring home men instead. They're not as shrill during a fuck anyway. Nor are they professing 'I love you!' during sex, either. ...I think she was about ready to propose to me, too."

"No you won't."

"Tch." He took a long drag on his cigarette. "It's not like I'm looking for 'the one' or anything, Brad, so you don't have to worry about me bringing someone to stay. Also, I pay half the rent. I'll bring whoever I want home." He blew the smoke right in Crawford's face and didn't even attempt to make it look like an accident. Crawford waved the smoke away with his hand and gave Schuldig a look.

"Don't call me Brad, and you paying half the rent doesn't mean you can make--or break--whatever rules you please. _I_ bought the apartment."

"So what should I call you instead? Fuhrer? Herr Diktator? Schmerz in meinem ar--"

"You will address me as Crawford, thank you very much." He was losing his patience. Not even a saint would have enough patience to deal with Schuldig. "We are on last name basis because I am your boss and you are my subordinate."

Schuldig mock-pouted. "Aww, I kinda liked 'Schmerz in meinem Arsch'."

Crawford wasn't even going to try to figure out what that meant, though he had an idea.  
"And besides, technically 'Schuldig' _would_ be my first name, and we're on last name basis."

Crawford wanted to know if Schuldig did this on purpose, just because he knew it annoyed him.  
"If you _had_ a last name, I would call you by it. But since you don't--"  
"Oh, I have a last name." He took another long drag. "You just don't know it and I don't feel like telling anyone."

"Back to the matter at hand." Crawford often wondered how his conversations got derailed so quickly and easily. He wasn't the type for useless conversation.  
"Which was?"  
An aggravated sigh. "If you wish to bring people home with you, you have to clear it with me first. You know the rules."

Schuldig leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head as he left his cigarette to burn in his mouth. He rolled his eyes.

"How many times have I told you this, Crawford? _You can't control me_. We've known each other for how long now?"

"Many times," Crawford replied as if he were reading the answer in a medical journal. "And for five years now, since our days in Rosenkreuz."

"And yet you always try."

Crawford sipped at his now cold tea and grimaced. "A leader is useless if he cannot control his subordinates, Schuldig."

Schuldig didn't like Crawford's condescending tone. "Well." He rolled up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and snuffed out his cigarette, completely ignoring the never-used ashtray on the table. Crawford's ever-stoic face didn't convey the wince he felt inside.  
"You can't tame a wild animal. Stifling them in a cage only brings fatal results. The tame lion will only let a stupid ringleader hold his head in his mouth for so long before finally--" He made a snapping motion with his hands, "--something bad happens. And even then it's the lion's fault, not the bastard who thought it was a great idea to stick his head in a lion's mouth."

Crawford pushed his spectacles up further on his nose. "I never said I wanted to tame you or cage you. I just want to control you. Even if it's just for a moment." The last part sounded just a little wistful.  
"The people at Rosenkreuz wanted that too and look at what happened. I got loose from my cage."  
"And who was it who brought you back?"

They regarded each other for a moment before Crawford got to his feet with the grace of royalty, Schuldig watching his every move. First he dumped the disgustingly cold tea into the dirty and dish-filled sink. Then, right when he expected Crawford to grab the newspaper from the table to put on the recycle pile, Schuldig was grabbed and shoved up against the wall.

"When I'm done with you, you won't want to bring anyone else home."

Schuldig chuckled as Crawford pinned him to the wall.

"What's so amusing?" Schuldig thought Crawford never found anything amusing due to the fact that there was a rather long stick shoved so far up his ass, it was amazing he could sit down at all.

"You."

"Me?"

"Is there an echo? Did I stutter? Did that stick wedged up your ass affect your hearing?"

Crawford glared daggers at the telepath. Schuldig smirked.

"You thought I'd go down without a fight, didn't you? And you're _wrong_, Crawford. Oh so wrong." He pushed with his hips, pushed Crawford against the wall, and kissed him hard, hands gripping his shirt and sending his glasses askew.

"But see, I don't let anyone control me. Ever. _I_ control _them_."


End file.
